


Craven Glory

by Merit



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't a throne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Craven Glory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NightsMistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/gifts).



It wasn’t a throne.

Tathiel had never wanted the Charter damned thing. She had thought the Clayr had understood that, that another of the King’s (her _grandfather_ , an insistent voice brought up, and sounding suspiciously like the Abhorsen’s cat) relatives had been Seen as the next ruler and she could live in the Glacier forever. She had thought the Clayr had accepted her wishes until they had turned as one and insisted that they had Seen her as Queen and she must leave and return to Belisaere.

The march to Belisaere had been exhilarating. Tathiel had raged, wishing she had the berserker blood that ran strongly through Royal line. The Clayr’s banners had snapped in the wind and Tathiel’s heart had ached, watching her friends go to war. They all had Seen her as Queen and after ten years she was needed in the Old Kingdom. Not one of them would budge and they almost seemed disappointed in her.

They had seen her as Queen and she cursed her Blood. They had seen in armour, facing the sea and she only wanted to retreat inland, back to the Glacier.

Fear and fury had lit through her body when news travelled through the Clayr camp that the Palace was on fire. Tathiel had turned in the direction of Belisaere, of the Palace and set her mouth in a strong line. She had been Seen as Queen. This was her city, her Kingdom and so she set her heels against her horse and hurried with the rest of the Clayr.

She had blasted through barricades herself in the rush to the Palace. The Clayr, some of them still in their white robes, declared that Princess Tathiel had returned. People had fallen to their knees and Tathiel could have counted the Charter Marks on one hand. She had clenched her hand around her sword. She had forged it herself three summers ago, when she felt she finally could be declared a proper Charter Mage.

They had taken her to the Palace, bodies still be dragged away, smoke still billowing from places she had played as a child. They had taken to her grandfather.

Her grandfather had died, his hand reaching out to embrace hers. He was old, older than she had expected and so much weaker. Tathiel had felt tears rush to her eyes and he had died. She was declared Queen, by a circle of Charter Mages, Clayr and soldiers. They had pledged their lives in the service of the Kingdom but Tathiel knew they would never let her escape again.

It wasn’t a throne but it felt like a cage.

She tapped her fingers, nails rapping a sharp beat against the polished wood of the armrest. It was an ordinary chair, even if the legs had been carved by a master craftsman and the velvet cushion had been embroidered by a Charter Mage. And oh, how Tathiel had bitten her lip at trying to imagine what harm her Royal behind could get into. But she had sobered, thinking of many of her ancestors, their scant years on the throne before some Free Magic creature or necromantic plot that had placed them in their tomb.

She suppressed a shiver. She supposed all those years at the Glacier hadn’t entirely been wasted.

Belatiel cleared his throat and Tathiel narrowed her eyes. He had been standing there for several minutes now and Tathiel could imagine her advisers tossing their hands in the air with despair, imagining her treating the Abhorsen like this. He had already been interrogated after it had been discovered that Clariel had escaped. He hadn’t revealed anything important but there were already people riding north and south. Clariel was to be captured alive or not, Tathiel hadn’t cared either way.

That cat of his had wandered in as well and it was licking a paw by a window, sunlight making his white fur almost blinding. He closed one eye slowly at her, pink tongue hanging out of his mouth, tail wrapping around his body.

“She escaped,” Tathiel finally said, folding her hands in her lap and giving Belatiel a steady stare. The cat made a wheezing sound that suspiciously sounded like laughter which Tathiel steadfastly ignored. Belatiel started, even though he must have expected something. He wasn’t hideous, but Tathiel had no intention of tying the Royal bloodline further to the Abhorsens. Not in her generation. “Now. How did that happen, Abhorsen?”

He babbled through some excuse. It was barely worthy of paying attention to. There was a high colour in his cheeks when he finished, all the more apparent because of his usual Abhorsen deathly pallor. The previous Abhorsen had never had it. He had come to Belisaere when Tathiel had been a child, already wanting to escape her Royal duties but having no idea how. Her grandfather hadn’t cared for him, but had extended him the courtesies that he was entitled to. He had been bold and brash and he died in a horse fall.

If it hadn’t happened in Hillfair, Tathiel might have been more suspicious about the line of events. The report seemed to hold up and none of her advisors regarded it is important. Even Mistress Ader had just nodded about the death. Though how much of that was due to her own preferences, she wasn’t going to decide quite yet. They preferred young Belatiel, even though he was barely trained and probably still had spots.

He stopped speaking and for a moment he looked he wanted to say something more but instead he straightened his shoulders and gave her a direct look. It reminded her of the Clayr, of her grandfather, maybe it was something in the Blood.

“Clariel was not treated kindly when she was in Belisaere,” he said.

“No,” Tathiel said, looking out the window and across the great view of Belisaere. “Attacked by Free Magic creatures, her parents murdered and driven out of her home. I’ve been told all about her.” Her grandfather had met her and had been pleased, or at least as much as he could be. She had been scolded as much as a Queen could be. Her grandfather had given up ruling years ago and Belisaere, the Kingdom was tattered and torn. It wasn’t a responsibility you could give up, she thought bitterly, without consequences.

Belatiel swallowed and Tathiel was reminded of how absurdly young he was. She propped her chin up with her hand and gave him a smile. It didn’t seem to help his composure.

“She wasn’t a person made for cities,” Belatiel insisted, “She needed solitude and when the previous Abhorsen put her in the Abhorsen’s House, it was more than she could take. She couldn’t be a prisoner,” he looked down when he said this, one hand clenching. Out of the corner of her eye, Tathiel saw the cat yawn, looking pleased with himself. “I should have said something then but, I wasn’t anything then. Just one of the Abhorsen’s many family members.”

“It was never revealed to you,” Tathiel said softly. “What a luxury,” she said and closed her eyes. Her parents had died when she was young and she had only ever grown up with the court’s eye on her. Her grandfather had raised her to be a Queen. And now here she was, on the throne.

“I still have to tell the family,” Belatiel said, with a rueful twist of his mouth. Tathiel smiled. She had never been to Hillfair but she knew enough about the hunt obsessed Abhorsens to imagine how they were going to receive someone like Belatiel as the next Abhorsen.

“Then you must go to Hillfair at once,” Tathiel said, nodding. “The previous Abhorsen, you were never his apprentice were you? There must be much to learn.” That white cat was definitely laughing now.

“The city – ” he started, before Tathiel shook her head, cutting him off.

“I am Queen here, am I not?” Tathiel stood up and walked over to the window. The fires had been stopped and here, at the Palace, she could hardly tell that battles had been fought in the streets. The Palace was still in need of dire repair but she had been quartered in a relatively unscathed section. “I will meet with Guilds and the rest,” she said softly, “They’ve been running amok. A relative of the King, of _mine_ , has been murdered by one of their own. They’ve been consorting with Free Magic monsters. They won’t have much of a choice but to treat.”

“They’re not all bad,” Belatiel said and Tathiel laughed.

“It would cause chaos to execute them all,” she agreed and Belatiel started, looked like he wanted to say something, before he repressed whatever he was going to say. “No, I won’t execute them all. It looks like the most guilty were killed before I could,” she said thoughtfully. She had been told that it had been Clariel. The whole place had smelled grossly of Free Magic and Tathiel had only seen a glimpse of her dark hair before she was taken away. A berserker who looked like an Abhorsen.

She had been going to execute the girl.

But then she had conveniently escaped and several of her advisors were suspiciously close mouthed about it. Tathiel had banned Clariel from the Kingdom. It had felt like a fruitless gesture. A girl of Clariel’s Blood should have known better than to dabble with Free Magic.

She touched her Charter Mark and it flared strongly. Tathiel smiled.

“You go now,” she murmured, waving her hand dismissively at Belatiel. “Maybe when things are resolved at Hillfair, you may return.”

“The Abhorsen goes where he must,” Belatiel said and bowed, slightly mocking. He left though, shoulders stiff and the cat followed. It paused at the doorway, looking back at her.

“I think you would have liked Clariel,” he said, sounding pleased with himself.

Belatiel snatched him up, frowning down at him “We’ll never find out now, will we?” He snapped and then looked apologetic at Tathiel.

She shrugged. “Go home, Abhorsen.” She heard him leave now, muttering instructions to the cat. She turned, facing the window again and stared across the city.

It was nothing she wanted.


End file.
